Alice Adams - Booth Tarkington (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📗

goes with, Walter. It’s because we’re poor, and she hasn’t got any background.”

“ ‘Background’?” Walter repeated. “ ‘Background’? What kind of talk is that?”

“You will go with her tonight, Walter?” his mother pleaded, not stopping to enlighten him. “You don’t understand how hard things are for her and how brave she is about them, or you couldn’t be so selfish! It’d be more than I can bear to see her disappointed tonight! She went clear out to Belleview Park this afternoon, Walter, and spent hours and hours picking violets to wear. You will⁠—”

Walter’s heart was not iron, and the episode of the violets may have reached it. “Oh, blub!” he said, and flung his soft hat violently at the wall.

His mother beamed with delight. “That’s a good boy, darling! You’ll never be sorry you⁠—”

“Cut it out,” he requested. “If I take her, will you pay for a taxi?”

“Oh, Walter!” And again Mrs. Adams showed distress. “Couldn’t you?”

“No, I couldn’t; I’m not goin’ to throw away my good money like that, and you can’t tell what time o’ night it’ll be before she’s willin’ to come home. What’s the matter you payin’ for one?”

“I haven’t any money.”

“Well, father⁠—”

She shook her head dolefully. “I got some from him this morning, and I can’t bother him for any more; it upsets him. He’s always been so terribly close with money⁠—”

“I guess he couldn’t help that,” Walter observed. “We’re liable to go to the poorhouse the way it is. Well, what’s the matter our walkin’ to this rotten party?”

“In the rain, Walter?”

“Well, it’s only a drizzle and we can take a streetcar to within a block of the house.”

Again his mother shook her head. “It wouldn’t do.”

“Well, darn the luck, all right!” he consented, explosively. “I’ll get her something to ride in. It means seventy-five cents.”

“Why, Walter!” Mrs. Adams cried, much pleased. “Do you know how to get a cab for that little? How splendid!”

“Tain’t a cab,” Walter informed her crossly. “It’s a tin Lizzie, but you don’t haf’ to tell her what it is till I get her into it, do you?”

Mrs. Adams agreed that she didn’t.

VI

Alice was busy with herself for two hours after dinner; but a little before nine o’clock she stood in front of her long mirror, completed, bright-eyed and solemn. Her hair, exquisitely arranged, gave all she asked of it; what artificialities in colour she had used upon her face were only bits of emphasis that made her prettiness the more distinct; and the dress, not rumpled by her mother’s careful hours of work, was a white cloud of loveliness. Finally there were two triumphant bouquets of violets, each with the stems wrapped in tinfoil shrouded by a bow of purple chiffon; and one bouquet she wore at her waist and the other she carried in her hand.

Miss Perry, called in by a rapturous mother for the free treat of a look at this radiance, insisted that Alice was a vision. “Purely and simply a vision!” she said, meaning that no other definition whatever would satisfy her. “I never saw anybody look a vision if she don’t look one tonight,” the admiring nurse declared. “Her papa’ll think the same I do about it. You see if he doesn’t say she’s purely and simply a vision.”

Adams did not fulfil the prediction quite literally when Alice paid a brief visit to his room to “show” him and bid him good night; but he chuckled feebly. “Well, well, well!” he said. “You look mighty fine⁠—mighty fine!” And he waggled a bony finger at her two bouquets. “Why, Alice, who’s your beau?”

“Never you mind!” she laughed, archly brushing his nose with the violets in her hand. “He treats me pretty well, doesn’t he?”

“Must like to throw his money around! These violets smell mighty sweet, and they ought to, if they’re going to a party with you. Have a good time, dearie.”

“I mean to!” she cried; and she repeated this gaily, but with an emphasis expressing sharp determination as she left him. “I mean to!”

“What was he talking about?” her mother inquired, smoothing the rather worn and old evening wrap she had placed on Alice’s bed. “What were you telling him you ‘mean to’?”

Alice went back to her triple mirror for the last time, then stood before the long one. “That I mean to have a good time tonight,” she said; and as she turned from her reflection to the wrap Mrs. Adams held up for her, “It looks as though I could, don’t you think so?”

“You’ll just be a queen tonight,” her mother whispered in fond emotion. “You mustn’t doubt yourself.”

“Well, there’s one thing,” said Alice. “I think I do look nice enough to get along without having to dance with that Frank Dowling! All I ask is for it to happen just once; and if he comes near me tonight I’m going to treat him the way the other girls do. Do you suppose Walter’s got the taxi out in front?”

“He⁠—he’s waiting down in the hall,” Mrs. Adams answered, nervously; and she held up another garment to go over the wrap.

Alice frowned at it. “What’s that, mama?”

“It’s⁠—it’s your father’s raincoat. I thought you’d put it on over⁠—”

“But I won’t need it in a taxicab.”

“You will to get in and out, and you needn’t take it into the Palmers’. You can leave it in the⁠—in the⁠—It’s drizzling, and you’ll need it.”

“Oh, well,” Alice consented; and a few minutes later, as with Walter’s assistance she climbed into the vehicle he had provided, she better understood her mother’s solicitude.

“What on earth is this, Walter?” she asked.

“Never mind; it’ll keep you dry enough with the top up,” he returned, taking his seat beside her. Then for a time, as they went rather jerkily up the street, she was silent; but finally she repeated her question: “What is it, Walter?”

“What’s what?”

“This⁠—this car?”

“It’s a ottomobile.”

“I mean⁠—what kind is it?”

“Haven’t you got eyes?”

“It’s too dark.”

“It’s a secondhand tin Lizzie,” said Walter. “D’you know what that means? It means a flivver.”

“Yes,